


Red Lace

by misslizanne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslizanne/pseuds/misslizanne





	Red Lace

Emma curls up with the copy of  _Pride and Prejudice_  that Killian left on the coffee table, pages scribbled on as if he was taking notes on the book rather than reading it for pleasure. She sips on her cocoa, sighing as the warm beverage flows down her throat.

It’s one of those mornings where she’s nestled into the couch in her yoga pants and sweatshirt, reveling in the laziness that exists. She’s used to these mornings, had dozens of them during her year alone with Henry, even more when it was just her, but in the quiet still that is post-war Storybrooke, she can’t help but wonder if these moments will cease to exist when a new enemy comes forward.

“That book is a real tearjerker, if you ask me,” Killian interrupts her thoughts, taking her attention away from the pages of Victorian literature.

Emma cocks her head to the side, eyebrow raised in question. “You finished it?”

“Aye, couldn’t put it down,” he responds, sitting down awfully close to her on the couch.

She smiles weakly, breath hitching as his fingers trail idle circles up her thigh. “Well, then let me catch up.”

He offers her a ravenous grin, dark eyes gazing over the way her lazy morning clothes still hug her curves. He takes the book out of her hand, placing it back on the table and pulling her closer to him. “Read it later, love,” he purrs, hand wandering down her torso towards the elastic hem of her pants.

“ _Killian_ ,” she breathes out on a shaky exhale as his fingers wander under the hem, a warm sensation pooling low in her belly.

He pauses for a moment, stilling over the scratchy fabric of her underwear, and it’s then she remembers what’s actually underneath them. “Are you wearing lace, love?”

She nods as he pulls the pants off her legs, revealing bright red lace hanging low on her hips, covering just enough to sustain the mystery but not nearly enough to fend off the lurid thoughts in his mind.

He hums for a moment, hand rubbing against the fabric hugging her center, creating friction but not nearly enough and certainly not where she needs it most. “This comes as a surprise, love,” he teases, fingers pushing the fabric aside to rub against the slick heat of her center. “You’re dressed like a vixen underneath.”

“I guess I haven’t done laundry in a while,” she explains, gliding her hips forward, chasing the steady roll of his thumb over her clit. “I had nothing else to wear except this.”

Killian dips a finger into her core, curling it upwards. “I rather approve of this predicament.” He pushes another finger in, pumping them in smooth, steady thrusts before he slithers down her body, perching himself between her thighs.

He swipes his tongue across her folds, eliciting a soft moan from her lips as he molds his tongue against her walls, mapping out the delectable parts of her. His fingers reach up to the lacy hem of her underwear, brushing even circles across the skin that meets the fabric. “Such a breathtaking garment,” he hums, his voice so subtle and husky that it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Take it off,” she whines when it gets in the way of his mouth, preventing him further access. “ _Please_.”

“No,” he commands, peering up at her from beneath thick eyelashes, the dark blue of his eyes filled with lust and desire as he darts them between her expression and the lacy garment. “I want to thoroughly fuck you with my mouth,  _with_ these still on.”

She leans back on the couch, head hitting the armrest as he glides his tongue back into her core, shooting sparks deep inside of her. She grabs his hair, tugs at the black strands as she guides him further into her center, groaning when his nose presses lightly against her clit.

She wonders what she looks like, sweatshirt and camisole, yoga pants strewn on the floor, scruff-faced pirate pressed between her thighs, his fingers tugging at the red lace as if its an anchor keeping them both steady. She rolls her hips against his tongue, fingers clasping onto his hair, the couch, then his shoulders as she cries out in pleasure, electricity washing through her veins. He continues to thrust his tongue up into her, grinning as she comes down from her high, her body tensing once, then twice as his strokes grow gentler, lapping up the mess they’ve now created.

Her underwear is soaked, as is the scruff on his face as he sits up, smug smirk quirking at the corners of his lips as if her orgasm was his intention all along.

“What?” she asks, pulling her knees under herself, not even bothering to dress her bottom half.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he says, waving her off as he gets up and heads towards the kitchen.”

She jumps off the couch, throws a pillow at his head. “Killian B. Jones!”

He swats away the pillow, a hearty laugh escaping his throat. “Don’t get mad, Swan,” he begins, rubbing his chin in scrutiny. “But I hid all your other undergarments in the washer.”

She can’t help but smile, head falling into her hand at the sneakiness of her pirate (he  _is_  a pirate, she should really expect no less from him). “Guess you just really like red, huh?”

He nods, waltzing towards her and scooping her up in his arms. “Aye, now let’s see what else in that magical little drawer of yours is red.”


End file.
